


Skip Dinner

by Pemm



Series: Impulse [1]
Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-16
Updated: 2014-02-16
Packaged: 2018-01-12 15:34:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1190409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pemm/pseuds/Pemm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time they met, he caved her skull in. Pyro remembered very distinctly the way her neck crunched, how her vision fizzed out and warped, and the spike of his laugh driving her to the ground. He was the new BLU scout, and it was the first time anyone had killed her so effortlessly.</p><p>Two respawns later, when she was pulling her axe out of him after a very involved dismemberment, she realized that this was already more than a simple rivalry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Skip Dinner

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hannah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hannah/gifts).
  * Translation into Русский available: [Импульс (Impulse by Pemm)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2148963) by [Mr_Scapegrace](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mr_Scapegrace/pseuds/Mr_Scapegrace)



The first time they met, he caved her skull in. Pyro remembered very distinctly the way her neck crunched, how her vision fizzed out and warped, and the spike of his laugh driving her to the ground. He was the new BLU scout, and it was the first time anyone had killed her so effortlessly.

In less than thirty minutes she was out of respawn and hunting, the cart forgotten. The scout didn’t know the area like she did, Upward was _her_ territory, and using his speed against him wasn’t hard. It was a matter of keep-away and careful airblasts, and it would have been so easy to just puff him over the cliffs. But her teeth still ached with phantom pain and her left eye was still twitching, and instead she herded him into the corner of one of the decrepit sheds after a long chase. “Yeah, right,” he said when he realized her plan, and squeezed the scattergun’s trigger.

Nothing happened. Out of ammo—she had counted his shots. As his face fell hers glowed—in more ways than one. She set him and the rest of the little building on fire and watched them tumble down the mountainside.

That’s all it took. She found out the next day that the BLU scout took losing even more personally than the one on her team. He dropped her executioner-style the first time he caught her, and two respawns later, when she was pulling her axe out of him after a very involved dismemberment, she realized that this was already more than a simple rivalry.

Her team noticed, too. “Hey, good job on that loser,” Scout told her as they packed in for the day. “Amateur, right? Never even seen nobody screw up a jump that bad.”

Pyro snorted and pulled off her mask. Gingerly she touched her bruising cheekbone and blacking eye, mementos from the BLU before the last time she took him out. “He screwed it up because I got a flare right in his crotch. He’s good otherwise, he’s not an amateur.”

Scout rolled his eyes. “Yeah right.”

“Better than you, anyway.”

“Wh—Pyro, what the hell, I thought we was on the same team!”

She lifted an eyebrow at him and shrugged. It was the truth. But Scout just glared at her and scampered ahead to join the rest of the team.

Upward always took forever, and she was fine with that. By the time the cart got anywhere near the final point she and the scout had probably killed each other two dozen times each over the last week.

It wasn’t enough.

That’s why it all went to hell when she cornered him in the dark space beneath the final point, his back to the wall and her axe’s handle up against his neck. Strangulation was a nice, intimate way to kill someone, and took about as long as she could spare given their surroundings.

But she stopped around the time his movements were weakening, dropping the axe to pin him by his chest instead of his throat. He coughed hideously and stared, too weak yet to fight back, when she ripped off her mask. It was too dark for him to make out her face, anyway. “Wh—what the fuck?”

“I changed my mind,” she said as she grabbed his jaw, and kissed him. It was a harsh, fierce kiss and he didn’t seem to know what to do with her tongue in his mouth. He was bleeding when she pulled away and just gaped at her silhouette as she unholstered her shotgun. “Damn, not even a ‘thank you’?”

“I—wh…”

“I guess I do have that effect on people,” she mused, pulling the trigger.

The next time she saw him, she didn’t. He rammed into her from the side, body-checking her straight into the brick wall just feet from the health kit. She crumpled, wheezing, and howled when he ground his cleat onto her hand to make her drop her gun. “Aight, okay,” he said, shoving his scattergun right up the bottom of her rib cage, and _shit_ that was going to hurt if he pulled the trigger, “Okay, take off your mask.”

For a second she just looked at him, confused. Then she remembered, and the laughter started. “What, do you need to make sure I’m hot?”

It was all mumbled gibberish to him, she knew, but that just made the irritation on his face all the more satisfying. “I know you’re a girl, I ain’t deaf, just take the thing off!”

“Hell no,” Pyro said, and grabbed her shotgun again. The scout squeezed the trigger. The report hurt her ears and she was coughing blood, but it wasn’t too hard to put the shotgun against her lenses and blow her own head off.

Kid wouldn’t be figuring her out post-mortem if she had anything to say about it.

So then it was a game of keep-away. The scout switched gears, if the baseballs aimed at her head any time she was out in the open were anything to go off of, but all she had to do was stay out of range and die in ways that wouldn’t let him get close to her face. She was winning for another two days before he wised up.

What happened was she got too confident. She was leading him in a chase under the final point again, weaving between the supports—he couldn’t use his speed with all the obstacles. That was her logic, anyway. When she literally slammed into him, he was prepared and she wasn’t. Pyro hit the ground, and he kicked her flamethrower off into the pit. “Hey, lady,” he said, using his bat to lift her chin until they were looking at one another, “so c’mon, can you give it a rest, okay, I just wanna talk.”

“Talk,” she repeated, grinning. He lifted an eyebrow, pushing the end of the bat into her neck just enough to hurt. “Talk, huh. Yeah, alright, why the hell not?”

The scout looked surprised when she actually complied, reaching up and pulling the rubber off. He stepped back as she dropped the mask into her lap.

She squinted up at him in the noon sunlight that filtered down through the floorboards, waiting. “Hmph,” the scout said after a second or two, turning her face from side to side with the bat. “Not bad. Not too bad.” He didn’t comment on the scars clawing their way up her jaw and cheeks. “Yeah, I can go with it.”

“Oh, geez, thanks.”

“Shh. So I guess my gorgeous face was too much for ya, yeah? That’s what happened? Well, heh,” he flexed, “yeah, it happens, I ain’t even surprised, I’m just too damn handsome, I got ladies throwin’ themselves at me every damn day, I can’t even walk none at home.”

She snorted, standing up. “Uh-huh.”

“S’true, I got photos.”

“Don’t care.” She wrapped her hand around his dog tags and pulled him toward her. He didn’t resist. “So, are you happy now?”

“Ehh, nah, I don’t think so.” He crooked his finger into the collar of her suit, and this close she could smell him—sweat and leather, the sugary snap of that soda both scouts drank. “Now maybe if you’d, I dunno, say, come get dinner with me sometime, maybe some coffee, then—”

Pyro hooked her foot behind his ankle and pulled. The scout smacked the rock hard, grunting, and she dropped to her hands and knees over him. “Let’s skip dinner,” she said, tracing his cheekbone with her fingertip. “Cut straight to the coffee.”

“Oh uh—uh, wow, shit, you don’t mess around,” he mumbled. “I mean, yeah—yeah, damn. Damn, let’s, yeah.”

“Good. Tonight. Look for me.” She flicked his nose and got to her feet, her hand passing lightly over his hip and the holster there. When he followed a few seconds later, she shot him with his own pistol.

 

* * *

 

The same night, the BLU team got the cart just feet from their goal, and it was Pyro’s turn for sentry duty. Which, you know, suited her. Once it was quiet, she started shooting the flares.

Two of them hit the ground by BLU’s newest spawn point, the third soared over them, and she emptied the rest of her ammo out on what windows she could see. From there, it was simply a matter of waiting. She leaned against the bomb cart and tried not to fall asleep.

The sound of cleats tearing up the dirt stirred her. She pushed herself up and looked, and sure enough there he was, a dark silhouette against the dim exterior lights. Pyro pulled off her mask, and in the few seconds it took her he had closed the gap between them. “Hi,” he said. She grabbed his arm, lifting an eyebrow. The scout snorted, curling his fingers around the end of her glove. “Holy shit, babe, keep it in your pants, huh? So where we doin’ this, huh, we gonna—we ain’t gonna do it out in the open. I ain’t into that.”

“No, idiot,” she said, and leaned in to kiss him again. This time he sunk his hand into her hair and kissed back hard enough to leave her breathless. When she broke away she was panting, and with a little smile she pulled him into the abandoned building to the right of the pit.

Up the stairs, around a corner. The scout was pawing at her belt before she even stopped walking, and she swatted his hand away. “Aw, c’mon, you’re killin’ me.”

“Gentlemen use foreplay,” she said, but she let him back her up against the wall and kiss her again. This time he groped at her chest, and paused in the middle of things to look down in disappointment at her thick suit. Pyro rolled her eyes and guided his hand to the hidden zipper. In seconds he had ripped it open and she was shrugging off the shoulders as they went back to kissing, the thin t-shirt and sports bra beneath yielding much more easily under his hands. His touch was rough and intense, and she sighed contentedly into his mouth. She stripped off her gloves, letting them drop to the floor, and threaded her fingers up through his hair and against his bicep.

It didn’t take much prompting to get him to take his shirt off. Soon that was in a heap on the floor, too, and she ran her calloused hands over his scarred torso, hungry to explore him. For his part he took to kissing down her neck, sucking the textured skin hard. When he hit her neckline he growled and pulled on it with his teeth. “Easy,” she said, pushing him off to wriggle out of shirt and bra. “Okay, okay—”

The scout squeezed her tit hard and she lost her breath, only to moan softly into his hair when he dropped to suck her nipple. He rolled the other one between his fingers for a few seconds before setting his hands to work peeling the rest of her suit down her legs. Pyro clawed his back with her blunt nails and breathed, shutting her eyes to better focus. His teeth closed down on her sensitive flesh. “Fuck!”

Beneath her he laughed, shoving the suit and the shorts she wore beneath them down to her feet and tracing his finger down the front of her briefs. She exhaled and pushed him back, stepping out of her clothes to drive him across the hall. He grunted when his back hit the wall. “Hey, what the hell,” he started, then stopped abruptly when she dropped to her knees and ripped open his fly. “Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘oh’,” she said with a roll of her eyes as she unzipped his boxers and pulled his dick out. He was halfway hard already—of course he was—and she scrutinized it for a few seconds before doing more than rubbing it. Precum drooled down her hand. He wasn’t bad—nothing ridiculous like she was sure he’d like her to believe—six solid inches and a nice curve. She hummed contemplatively, then pressed her lips to the tip.

“Oh, shit,” the scout muttered, arching his back. Pyro paused and pulled away. “Fuckin’, what, don’t—”

“You’re not some virgin, are you?”

“What? No!”

“Because I don’t want to deal with any one-and-I’m-done shit.”

The scout glared at her. She laughed and went back to working her hand along him, smirking up at him. “So what’s your name?”

“My name, what, why, what you gonna do with knowin’ my name, what’s that gotta do with blowin’ me?”

“What else am I supposed to scream later?” she said, squeezing. The scout groaned, tilting his head back. “I’m not calling you Scout, I already have a Scout and he’s an asshole.”

“I—gimme a sec, okay—fuck, that, keep doing that okay,” the scout breathed. “Um, I don’t, I don’t know. Whatever you want.”

Men. She rolled her eyes. “Fine, you’re Blue for the night.”

“Blue, seriously? You ain’t serious. That is the most uncreative shit I have ever heard, am I s’posed to call you Red? I ain’t callin’ you Red, that’s stupid, Blue’s stupid.”

“Oh my God.”

“What if we just stop frickin’ talkin’ about dumb shit and screw, what if we did that.”

Pyro gave him the most deadpan look she could muster with her lips pressed against his cock before giving up. Whatever. He was stiff and hot in her hand now, and she swirled her tongue over him a few times before getting up and guiding his hands to her underwear. He hooked one on her hip and slid the other down into the front of her briefs, slipping through her pubic hair to curl against her lips. She shut her eyes and dug her fingers into his shoulders.

She opened them again when he pulled his hand out, brow furrowing, to find he was turning her around. Her chest hit the wall and he got back to work, his hand snaking back around to her front and his lips tracing a path along the side of her neck. His dick pressed up against her ass, very noticeable. She spread her legs and grit her teeth, and he slipped one of his fingers into her. “Ahh—more, more of that—”

“Hey, I call the shots, okay,” he said into her ear, crooking his finger inside her. Like hell he did, but just at the moment she didn’t feel like arguing. He added another, and she moaned aloud, pushing her hips back against his. “You like that, huh, yeah?”

“Stop running your fucking mouth and fuck me.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” he said, petulant, and scissored out his fingers. She bit her tongue, and harder when his thumb pushed against the delicate nub he had thus far neglected. “Okay, fireworks? I know what I’m doin’ here, I told you I ain’t no virgin, I’ll take care’a you just fine, don’t you worry.”

With a growl she relented, sinking against the wall. In truth she had expected, and been prepared for, a hard, quick session. The scout seemed to have other plans. He traced along inside her, his mouth again preoccupied with bruising her neck and shoulders, until she was absolutely aching. Every new motion of his fingers or twitch of his thumb against her sent her hips rolling, and when he went from sliding his other hand along her thigh and stomach to groping her breast again she thought she would snap. Face pressed to the wall, she felt the word nearly dragged out of her as he explored her: “P—please.”

The scout paused. He smiled into her skin. “Please what.”

“I’m—just, please.”

“I ain’t hearin’—”

His finger moved and she arched her back with a frustrated whine, and then her hands were scrambling back to pull her underwear down. The bastard just started laughing, hands sliding clear as she let the things drop. He didn’t stop her when she reached around to guide him in.

A brief pressure—it had been a while—and then he popped in. Pyro had to stop, leaning heavily against the wall, but it didn’t keep the scout from doing anything. He wrapped his hands around her hips and pushed. A groan seethed out of her, and again when he pulled back out. He paused, and when she glanced behind her she got a glimpse of him bracing his feet. When he thrust in again she saw sparks.

By the time her vision cleared again he had established a rhythm, one that kept her systematically pressed against the cool wall. She shivered and tried to match it, and after a few failed attempts she managed, and soon she could hear his breathing coming harder and faster, same as hers. When she closed down around him he would make this unexpectedly pleasant hissing sound.

The long strokes began to get shorter, more abrupt. He leaned over her and cupped her breast with one hand again as he moved in and out, nosing and kissing her neck,  and God that was something she hadn’t known she enjoyed so much. His other hand slinked up her face, along the burnt skin, and one finger pressed against her lips. She took it into her mouth without a second thought, running her tongue along it. Something about that must have done it for him—a moment later he was riding her hard, with shallow thrusts and soft grunts. She felt him press his forehead against her back, and the hand that was not in her mouth dropped down between her legs. His fingers found her clit and started fast, hard circles over it, and in seconds she was gone.

She came with a choked cry and a rough jerk of her hips, and a few moments later he followed, ending with a few hard thrusts before pulling out to finish between her legs. Her knees nearly gave out—they did when he stepped back, using his hands to push off from her. She fell to her hands and knees, and after a moment awkwardly sat back onto her calves.

For perhaps a minute there was only labored breathing. Pyro’s head was nothing but flashing light and still-coming sparkles of pleasure. The scout pulled it back together first, dropping into a heap beside her. “Good?” he got out. She just nodded. “Yeah, me, me too. Hhh, shit.” He swallowed hard. “Good coffee.”

That got a laugh out of her.

 

* * *

 

The soreness stayed with her well into the morning. In the end she charged the BLU heavy headfirst just to get herself into respawn to get rid of it—it was nice enough for the rest of the night, but not something she needed while fighting.

When she rounded a corner mere seconds from the end of the match, she pulled up short barely in time to avoid a collision with the scout. He skidded to a halt, too, letting his scattergun’s nose point to the ground. “Uh,” he said, looking all sheepish and like he hadn’t just fucked her senseless less than twelve hours ago.

Under the mask, she blinked. Then she dropped her head and laughed, leaning against her flamethrower. The scout was still there when she stopped, and seeing as none of the other BLUs were around yet either, she pulled the mask up just enough so she could peer out at him from under the lip. “Hi.”

“Hey, uh, hi.”

“Want to get dinner tonight?”

He looked at her all wide-eyed and nodded. Then he looked over both shoulders and added, “…Can we get coffee after?”

Another burst of laughter bubbled up her throat. “Yeah, why the hell not?”

**Author's Note:**

> For Hannah/[cosmictuesdays](http://cosmictuesdays.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr, who requested Scout/Pyro!


End file.
